Constant Angel
by Jojo1228
Summary: Erik has been a ghost for over 130 years, desperately wanting another chance to live. Destiny is a young woman who is still reeling after the car accident that claimed the lives of her parents. Naturally, these two kindred spirits wind up crossing paths. (Modern Day, ghost!Erik, Erik/OC, Erik/Christine, Raoul-tolerant) Rated T for mild violence and language. 25th anniversary based.
1. Prologue

Constant Angel

Summary: Erik has been a ghost for over 130 years, desperately wanting another chance to live. Destiny is a young woman who is still reeling after the car accident that claimed the lives of her parents. Naturally, these two kindred spirits wind up crossing paths. (Modern Day, ghost!Erik, Erik/OC, Erik/Christine, Raoul-tolerant)

Prologue

 **Erik**

 **February 28, 1882**

At first, the whole thing seemed like a nightmare. Christine leaving me, a mob on my trail, and me stumbling into an angry crowd at first seemed as if they were events from one of my chaotic nightmares. That was until I woke up lying on my back in one of the Opera's secret passages. At the time, I was confused, and disoriented, which led me to further believe that just maybe I'd been dreaming. That was, until I tried to get to my feet and to try and figure out what was going on.

It was at that same moment that I saw a man lying on the ground.

I could instantly tell that he was dead, but at first, I couldn't tell who he was. I just assumed that he might have been a random stranger. At that time, it wasn't all that uncommon for one to come across someone starving in an alleyway with no home.

But then I noticed his eyes.

At first, I only noted that they were a dull brown, but then I realized that those eyes were all too familiar.

They were my eyes.

At that same moment, the world came crashing down on me as I realized that I was the dead man lying motionless on the ground. I quickly scrambled to my feet, trying not to panic. Throughout all of this, I still thought that it might all be nothing more than a nightmare. I couldn't be dead! Not now!

As I stared at my own lifeless body, I suddenly heard footsteps and voices coming towards me. Out of habit and a blind panic I ran. At that point I didn't care where I ended up. I wanted to distance myself from that sight, and most of all, I wanted this nightmare to end.

Somehow, I managed to wind up standing in my lair. At that point, it was the last place I wanted to be, but it had also been my refuge when I was alive. That was why I decided to stay. Time was lost to me, and what seemed like five minutes later, I saw Madame Giry arriving. I was certain that she knew, and if she saw me, she made no note of it. I saw her gather my hat, mask, wig, tailcoat, and cape. I wasn't sure why, so I decided to follow her. Then I saw Meg, Raoul, and Christine. Christine was sobbing, and it pained me to see her this upset. The Vicomte had an arm arond her shoulder, probably to comfort her, and Meg was also downcast.

That's when I realized that I had stumbled upon my own funeral.

I'm not really sure why I stayed. I didn't want this to be the end of everything, but I wanted to tell Christine I loved her one last time. I walked over to her, each second torturing me, as I comtemplated a bleak future. One without Christine, light, or music. I stood beside her and asked, "Christine? Can you hear me?"

There was no response. Not even a slight indication that, yes, she could hear me. I said, "Christine, please, if you hear me, just give a sign. Anything."

Still nothing.

My deepest fear- that no one would be able to see or hear me- was rapidly coming true. That's when I truly started to panic. I started screaming, trying to get anyone to hear me, but no one ever showed any sign of it. Eventually, it became obvious that no one could either see or hear me.

That's when I crumpled into a sobbing heap. I didn't want to be dead, nor did I want Christine to be in tears. That was one sight I had always hated other than my face: seeing my angel in tears. I wanted to tell her to not cry over a wretch like me, to be happy with her Vicomte, and to keep singing, for her fallen Angel of Music. How was I supposed to tell her all of this when she couldn't hear a word I said?

Then the answer came painfully, she would never hear my last words to her, and no one would tell her. All I could do was watch my own funeral as they filled in my own shallow grave. Christine turned away, unable to watch as her former tutor was buried. I couldn't blame her.

Soon after, they all left. I tried one last time to get Christine to hear me, saying half to myself, "Christine, I don't know if you'll hear this, but I want you to know that I loved you since the day we met. Please, I don't want you to cry for me. I want you to be happy with your Vicomte, and to keep singing for me."

That was the last time I ever saw her.

The next 134 years passed by, slow, and lonely, but little did I know that everything would soon change.

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back with another story. So yes, this is my first, real Phantom of the Opera fanfic. And to those of you on Fanfiction, you're all probably wondering what took me so long. Well, let's chalk it up to an unwillingness to keep working on _Light and Dark,_ and an overall lack of inspriation. I'm telling you, this is probably one of the most depressing things I've ever written. Anyways, next chapter, we're going to meet our heroine, who will ultimately drive most of the story. Don't worry, I've spent several months planning this, so she's not a Mary Sue. As time goes on, you'll see what I mean.

Anyways, please review, give feedback, and no flaming.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 **Destiny**

 **June 19, 2015**

Standing outside the Opera Populaire, I wasn't sure what to think. In fact, one could say I had far too much on my mind. Pushing all of that aside for the moment, I started walking into the building, trying not to think of what had happened only last year. I barely knew enough French to get by, and I feared that I was quite like the sterotypical tourist, only without the tacky hula shirts.

However, after the crash, I was rather unsure of just about everything around me.

Back before the accident, I was rather outgoing, but then, one night, there was a terrible car crash, in which a drunk driver hit my parent's car. In fact, the impact was so horrific, that not one person came out alive. Nowadays, there was hardly a trace of the girl who used to belt her lungs out on karaoke nights.

I figured things might be slightly better if I left Montanna for a while, so I took an internship in France. I'll admit, I've never seen an opera before, but that was another thing about this cultural exchange, I had a chance to learn about it.

By this point though, I just hoped I'd make a good enough impression that I wouldn't come across as just another tourist.

 **Erik**

I've found that, in the years since my death, I've remained tied to the Opera House. I was well aware of the numerous people passing through its doors every day, whenever management changed, and the days on which operas or ballets were to be performed. That is not to say though, that I am imprisoned within the walls of this place. In fact, I waited out both World Wars in Canada, not wanting to remain in Paris when the Germans attacked.

However, each time I left, I always wound up returning.

Closing my eyes, I slipped back towards the memory of the first time I left the Opera House...

 **September 23, 1909**

I at first believed that since I'd lived the last few years of my life in the walls of the Populaire, I'd be trapped within its walls. However, even I found that remaining in the cellars grew tedious after a while. On one particular day, I'd decided to see if that were actually true.

To my great surprise, I found that there were no invisible barriers preventing me from leaving, and for the first time since 1875, I stepped out in the real world.

It was a world that shocked me.

Although I was aware of the world beginning to change around me, I rarely left the cellars, so except for the occasional trips above ground, I remained unaware of just how much the world had changed. I saw horseless carriages for the first time, men and women alike were becoming bolder, and it was also on this very day, that _Le Fantome de L'Opera_ happened to be published.

I managed to find a copy of _Le Gaulois_ that had been carelessly tossed aside, and I found I actually enjoyed it more than I thought I would. That was mostly because it wasn't all that accurate to how the events of my life happened. From then on, I kept reading each edition I could get my hands on, and as one might say, the rest was history.

 **Present Day**

Looking back, I find it amusing how back then, I had read that peculiar story week after week, completely unaware of how famous my story would eventually become. I only attended the premiere of each adaptation simply because I was curious. Some were better than others, but needless to say, I eventually became well-known across the globe. However, I wasn't one to truly relish in my newfound fame. In fact, the most you could say, was that I was aware, but that was just about the extent of it. It's also brought some unwanted visitors in the past, but I've learned to get used to it. I was simply grateful that most people could neither see or hear me. Even if they did, I went by fast enough that they must have been convinced that they'd seen nothing more than a shadow. Having spent 134 years as a ghost, I started to think that it would just be another day, just like any other.

However, I would soon find out that I couldn't have been more wrong.

 **Destiny**

I couldn't believe it when I walked out of that office. Despite being incredibly nervous and barely able to speak at first, I'd actually managed to get a job as a stagehand. I was starting the next day, which gave me quite a bit of time to explore the place where I now worked.

Eventually, I made my way into the cellars, thinking that it wouldn't turn into anything too spectacular. However, I was completely unaware that there were five labyrintine cellars below the Populaire. About three cellars down, I decided to turn back, but that's when I realized that I was lost. I wandered around for a while, trying to find my way back towards the stage area, but it was almost impossible when I found that almost every single corridor looked almost exactly the same. I was on the verge of curling up into a ball when a voice from behind me asked, "Vous êtes perdu car vous, mademoiselle? (Are you lost, mademoiselle?)"

"Oui," I replied, wanting to get out of this place as soon as possible. It was only now that I noticed that he wore a white half-mask, which I thought was odd, but I paid that no mind for the moment, but there was a part of me that thought that he might lead me further down into the cellars just to kill me anyways.

"Suivre moi (Follow me)," he said, motioning me to follow him.

I started wondering if I could really trust him, but my doubts were slightly eased when we started heading up a flight of stairs. At the same time, a million questions were running through my mind. Above all else, I wanted to know why he wore a mask, and more importantly, I wanted to find out who he was, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "Parlez vous Anglais? (Do you speak English?)"

"Yes, mademoiselle," he replied, acting as if it wasn't strange at all for me not to ask about the mask first, but I shrugged it off, rationalizing that, if I ever saw him again, I could ask about it then.

Eventually, I again saw the lights of the outside world. I turned around, but by that time, he'd disappeared. The whole event had been incredibly strange, and the only thing that I knew for sure was that I had no idea what had just happened.

 **A/N: We're back! Did you miss us? Well, all that aside, I apologize for the lack of updates, but don't worry, I'll be trying to find a more cohesive update schedule for this and some of my other stories.**

 **Anyways, please review, give feedback, and no flaming!**


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